All I Want for Christmas
by Staccato Rhythm
Summary: Four slices of Santana and Brittany's Christmas in the not so distant future. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to post this as quickly as I could before Christmas was upon us! I'm currently in the midst of my Winter House Exams and won't be finished until tomorrow so I was afraid this wouldn't be up in time. So please enjoy some future!Brittana with Sugar ;)

Oh also, is anyone available to be a beta for a friend of mine who has a really awesome fic? It would mean a lot to her if she had someone to help her and fangirl over her work (excluding me lol) so please either PM me or PM auntytany. Please and thank you!

* * *

><p>All I Want for Christmas<p>

Brittany accuses her of being more excited about Christmas than Holly as they're putting up decorations and jiggling their hips to Christmas music (from an old Glee CD Rachel sent them in the mail that they made some time during Senior year) Their aforementioned little miracle looks up briefly from her work placing baubles on the lower branches of their tree, at the mention of her name. And yeah, Santana probably _is_ more excited than her three year old daughter, but is that so bad? Holly is finally at the age where she understands the importance of Santa and Christmas presents and leaving carrots on the fire escape for the reindeer. There's now a magic in their house that didn't exist when Holly was a tiny-tot who preferred to play with the boxes her presents came in rather than the _actual_ presents.

"Ma." Holly tugs on her pyjama pants and Santana turns her focus on the toddler once she's finished wrapping the tree in golden tinsel. "Wanna put the star," she says with an impatient frown.

"We only put the star once the tree's finished, sugar," Brittany says taking a step back and squinting at their hard work. "Do you think it's finished, Santana?"

Santana bends to take Holly into her arms and places the toddler on her hip, silently appraising the blinking tree as she stands beside Brittany. Holly sticks her thumb in her mouth and simultaneously, as though they've spent days practicing the motion, all three girls cock their heads to the left for a better look. The tree looks good as far as Santana's concerned. Wrapped in warm shades of red and golden tinsel and garlands, bright blinking lights that make the dimly lit room twinkle and wafting a heavenly woodland smell that makes Santana feel like she's _home_. Yeah, it's definitely finished.

"We're good to go, girls," Santana declares buoyantly.

"Star time!" Brittany sings and Holly pulls her thumb out of her mouth with a loud _pop _and cheers.

Their daughter is handed to her taller Momma and placed carefully on Brittany's shoulders with Santana biting her bottom lip and urging Brittany to be careful not to knock Holly's head against the chandelier. Brittany, for her part, only rolls her eyes and asks her worrying other half for the star.

It's the first Christmas decoration they ever bought together as a couple, back when they'd celebrated their first Christmas away from home during college. When money had started to trickle in once they'd both begun working Santana had wanted to buy a new one but Brittany wouldn't have it, saying the one they already had was special and needed to be treasured for the future. It looks old and battle worn with dents from where Brittany dropped it that one time Junior year when she was drunk. But it's special and theirs and Santana wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Here you go, sweetheart." Santana carefully hands it to Holly whose unsure fingers slip in the spaces between the wiring.

"Alright, Holls. You ready?" Brittany queries brightly.

Holly replies with an excited "Yeah!" before Santana is shrieking for them to wait as she runs out of the living room. She comes racing back in with the chunky Canon family camera Santana's brother gave them last year and holds it up, smiling wildly at her girls and trying to ignore Brittany's little half smirk.

"Say cheese for Ma!"

Brittany and Holly give wide identical grins and Santana hesitates to take the picture. Instead she takes a moment to gaze at the two most important girls in her life and swallows thickly at the beauty she finds. Holly looks so much like her Momma and her eyes are dancing with the reflection of the roaring firelight. Brittany is just literally _glowing_ and Santana's heart just feels too big, too full for her chest to encompass. This is her family. This is the thing she never thought she'd ever get.

The flash goes off, blinding, and then Santana is watching her wife giggle as she strains up on her tiptoes so that Holly can place the star at the top of the tree, pride etched across her small round face.

"Does it look good, Ma?"

Santana catches her wife's eye as Brittany hoists their little girl from her shoulders onto the floor and nods. "Looks perfect, sugar."

* * *

><p>"I can't work tonight!"<p>

Santana and Holly share a quick look as Brittany's voice rises an octave higher than they're used to. She's barricaded herself in their bedroom but they can still hear her talking angrily from the kitchen where Holly is cutting out pictures of the toys she wants from Santa and sticking them on a letter. Santana's there to monitor the glue and scissor situation, keeping one eye on the toddler as she handles the chunky kiddy scissors with quiet determination, and one eye on the hall where Brittany's exasperated voice is attaining dangerous decibels.

"No, you listen to _me_ - what? I am _not_ being a diva! How dare you! I cleared the Christmas week with the producers! It's even highlighted in my contract for God sake!"

Santana grimaces when Holly pouts, turning her unruly head of light hair towards the hallway and pinching her eyebrows together. "Is Momma ok?"

"She's fine, Holls. Are you nearly done with your letter?"

"Almost," the child replies, taking hold of the glue stick and smearing it messily across the back of a picture of a Barbie doll house. Santana places it down on the page when Holly deems it properly glued and smooths the glue bumps down with a fist, holding up the finished letter up to the light.

"I'll write your name down and I'll post it tomorrow, okay?"

Holly nods happily. "Make sure to tell Santa I was real good this year okay, Ma?"

Santana laughs. She remembers vaguely being that carefree once. When your greatest concern was making sure Santa didn't bring you coal, wishing for it to snow on Christmas morning or that your parents would let you stay up late in case you saw the big guy himself. Holly's really excited about that actually. She was able to pout her Momma into submission and extend her bedtime by half an hour which, according to their daughter, is the optimum time in which to catch Santa.

Holly slips down from the kitchen chair and charges out of the room as Santana clears up the bits of paper and the shredded toy magazine her daughter has mangled, looking up when she hears her wife come in with Holly in her grasp clutching her neck with two wiry thin arms.

The look on Brittany's face says it all.

"You promised, Britt," Santana huffs, tossing the glue and scissors back in the drawer they originated from.

Brittany bows her head sadly. "I know."

"Second year in a row," Santana points out with some venom.

"I tried," Brittany argues, dropping Holly to her feet as the toddler pads silently out of the room to play. "I really did, San. But they won't have any of it. There's an evening show at nine and one on Christmas Eve and they threatened to _fire_ me if I didn't show up."

Santana collapses into a chair and leans over the kitchen table holding her face in her hands. Brittany comes to stand behind her tentatively and curls her body protectively around Santana, sighing heavily in defeat when she hears the woman's trembling breaths.

"We wanted you home," Santana whispers.

Closing her eyes tightly at the words, the dancer places a delicate kiss against her wife's cheek. "Me too." They stay wrapped around each other for a few silent moments before Brittany mutters something about getting dressed and dropping another apologetic kiss against Santana's skin.

Brittany rains kisses and hugs on them with feverish affection as she prepares to leave, coat buttoned up tightly and gloves encasing hands that rapidly chill. Holly holds on tight to her Momma with a pained expression and Santana has to look away when a single tear escapes Brittany as she kisses her daughter goodbye.

"Love you, sugar. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Holly nods, silent now as she stuffs her thumb in her mouth and sucks for comfort. Santana kisses Brittany and holds tight, wishing her a good show and a quiet but earnest 'I love you'.

"I love you too," Brittany murmurs, kissing her one more time before she's giving them a heartbreaking little wave and slipping out the door.

Holly bursts into tears the moment her Momma has left and Santana groans, hoisting the little girl into her arms and rocking her back and forth with a tune on her lips as Holly's tiny body wracks with cries for her mother. She calms when they turn on the TV and settle down to watch 'The Grinch', sitting on her Ma's lap and holding tightly to Santana's t-shirt in case she decides to leave too. She sucks her thumb lazily, occasionally asking questions about each bright character on screen, eyes drooping as the minutes tick by and the Grinch's heart begins to thaw.

Holly passes out half an hour later exhausted from the late hour, but Santana doesn't have the heart to rouse and move her to bed. Especially not tonight.

Holly's always been sensitive about her parents being together. If one is absent for whatever reason she panics and is damn near inconsolable unless you can properly distract her. They don't know why this is. Brittany's mother once awkwardly asked if perhaps Holly is under the impression that her parents are going to split up but Santana can't recall a single instance when she and Brittany ever gave that allusion. They're solid and maddeningly in love and so so happy. There's really no reason for Holly to feel like her parents aren't one hundred percent committed to each other.

Brittany say's Holly's just a human being who wants to be surrounded by happiness. That she must feel safer with both her Ma and Momma there to love her and each other. Santana likes that explanation better.

She puts Holly to bed at around eleven, tucking her under her Tropical Animal Kingdom bedspread and turning on the space night light that makes the moon and stars orbit the walls. Nothing in Holly's bedroom seems to match but their daughter prefers it that way. She seems to take after Brittany in that manner, who's fashion sense can occasionally be as diverse and odd as when they were teenagers. Santana closes the door halfway on her way out because Holly habitually gets up in the middle of the night after a nightmare or accident,to crawl into her parents bed and burrow in the space between them. She glances one more time at a softly snoring Holly Pierce-Lopez with her wild hair spilled out on a yellow pillow before she flicks the light off.

It's late so Santana decides to turn in too. She's sitting propped up in bed, yawning and squinting behind her reading glasses at a book on her lap an hour later, when she hears the tell-tale signs of her wife tripping over the mountain of shoes placed in front of their front door. Brittany comes trudging in with heavy limbs and collapses on her side of the bed with her coat still buttoned up over her mouth, her sweats rumpled halfway up her calf and her hair a matted mess on her head.

"Hello, honey," Santana murmurs as she turns a page.

"H'llo." Brittany groans softly and turns onto her back, staring at the ceiling with a vacant expression until Santana throws her a sidelong glance.

"You're all think-y."

"I am." Brittany nods. Her fingers begin to unbutton her coat slowly and a warm puff of air travels from her lips to blow a wayward strand of hair that falls across her eyes. The action causes Santana to melt and she puts the book down on the bedside table in favor of watching the wonder that is Brittany undress herself for bed. "I was thinking a lot about how I think I'm going to try and open up my own studio."

Santana arches an eyebrow. They've talked about Brittany opening up her own business for a while, especially now that they've got Holly who's set to start kindergarten next year. Flexible hours are a must and more importantly, _stability_. Brittany's career is unique and wonderful, no doubt, but there's always that brief lapse in incertitude each time she's between shows and productions. Santana's job pays well enough to sustain them but it's nice to know they can save and keep some of Britt's earnings away for a rainy day.

"Really?"

Brittany nods in affirmation as she twists out of her coat and sweats, flopping back on the mattress with a sigh and turning to paw Santana into the curve of her body. Santana goes willingly, holding Brittany close and inhaling the scent of the stage, of perfumed dressing rooms and expensive theater makeup. She inhales again and smiles, soft and slow, when the scent of _them - _their family scent - wafts from Brittany's skin. It does funny things to her stomach, makes her heart thrum deep and strong in her ears and against her collar bone until it feels like it's trying to break free.

"Work is getting in the way of you guys," Brittany mutters sleepily against her cheek. She yawns. "I ... wanna be with you."

"Sleep, Britt." Santana soothes a kiss to her wife's scalp, closing her eyes and clapping her hands lightly to extinguish the lights.

It doesn't feel like they're asleep for long before there's a little body in the bed with them. Santana moans and struggles to open her eyes, chuckling slightly when she hears Brittany hiss when a tiny knee connects sorely with her abdomen.

"Momma?" Holly whispers urgently. "Momma I had an accident."

Brittany clears her throat and rubs at her eyes, nodding absentmindedly before catching on. "Oh, an _accident._ Alright, sugar. Momma's coming to change the sheets."

Holly sucks on her thumb nervously and Santana watches silently as her two girls leave the bed and are swallowed up by the inky blackness of the hall. Fifteen minutes later Brittany comes stumbling back and drapes an arm across Santana's waist with a tiny peck.

"Is she alright?" Santana asks faintly, already losing the will to be awake.

Brittany grunts and nods. "Fine. Changed sheets. Asleep. Shhhh."

Santana smiles sleepily to herself before feeling incredible lightness as her consciousness floats away.

* * *

><p><em>From: Emily P.<em>

_Have you guys decided on a gift for Mom and Dad?_

"Sweetheart, your sister wants to know if we got your parents a gift yet."

Brittany furrows her eyebrows without taking her eyes off the program they were handed at the door. "I've had my eye on this toaster that works as a radio too. Seemed like the kind of thing my dad would appreciate."

Santana chuckles as she types out a response, finding a more comfortable position against the hard plastic seats of the small auditorium Holly's dance school has rented out for the ballet recital.

_To: Emily P._

_Britt was thinking a toaster that also works as a radio. Why?_

"I found her name!" Brittany exclaims with quiet enthusiasm, her finger hovering under the name _Holly Pierce-Lopez. _Santana beams and she feels a rush of pride at the sight but looks at her wife's misting eyes and understands that this probably means more to Brittany than it does to her. "This is so exciting, San! Our daughter's _first_ ballet recital!"

"It's pretty exciting," Santana agrees with a calm nod, squeezing Brittany's hand resting on her thigh. She glances around the auditorium at the other parents and tries not to laugh at the more eccentric mothers with their loud carrying voices and timid little husbands who sit meekly at their sides. Brittany however is completely lost to the world as she reads and re-reads Holly's name on the program - proof that another Pierce-Lopez is following in her footsteps and taking to the stage.

_From: Emily P._

_Could you ask her if you guys could put my name down on the card too? I'll pay for half of it I swear! I seriously have no idea what to get the old geezers. And Ella won't let me put my name down on her present._

"Emily's trying to weasel her way into our gift. She tried your older sister but got rebuffed."

"Oh God," Brittany shakes her head and roots around her purse to retrieve the camcorder. "Again?"

"Leave her alone. She's probably really swamped by schoolwork."

Brittany opens her mouth to reply but is cut short by the lights dimming and one of the dance teachers standing up on stage behind a microphone. She grins at her wife and Santana beams and nudges her.

"Better get filming, baby."

Holly's class is the third act to go up on stage and everyone in the audience 'aaw's' when ten or so three year old's are shepherded into place by their teacher. Santana feels Brittany's hand on her thigh squeeze gently and is ever aware of the blonde bouncing in her seat as the music starts. It shouldn't be the most captivating thing Santana has ever seen (It really shouldn't- the kids can hardly stay in sync with each other and more than half of them forget the steps and sway uncertainly in place) but Santana literally can't tear her eyes away. Holly is pointing her toes and bringing her hands up over her body in a sloppy imitation of the teacher near the wings, but she's still the indisputable best out of all of them.

A sniffle jars Santana from her elated clapping once the dance has finished and the kids are running backstage and she realizes with a little start that Brittany is _crying_.

Kissing her neck gently Santana whispers, "I'm proud of her too."

Nudging their foreheads together Brittany stares into her wife's mocha eyes and grins tearfully. Then, with a flutter of her eyelashes, she closes her eyes and presses her lips against Santana's, an act to communicate how happy, content, joyful and so lucky she is to be here. In the middle of the chaos that is parents and friends moving out of their chairs and chatting in dull tones, Brittany and Santana kiss gently and sweetly, reminiscent of the sure but light dance steps Holly has made up on stage tonight.

When they pick up their little prima-ballerina and Santana shakes the dance teacher's hand in greeting, they both watch Holly launch into her Momma's arms with a delighted cry. The two squeal and Brittany twirls their daughter round and round completely ignoring the odd looks they get from passing parents.

"Did ya see me? Did ya?" Holly's cheeks are bright red with glee and Brittany's eyes are glazing in that way that concerns Santana. Their daughter might get the wrong idea if her mother starts to randomly sob all over her.

"Sure did, sugar." Brittany clears her throat.

"Holly did really well tonight," the teacher affirms with an encouraging nod at the girl's parents. "I'm very happy with her. But then again, it's no wonder she's so talented when her mom is Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"Momma sings and dances on a big stage!" Holly squawks proudly up at the adults.

"That's right!" Santana says taking the girls hand. "C'mon, we better be getting home. Goodnight Ms. Parks."

"Good night, ladies. Thank you for coming."

Brittany takes Holly's other hand as they walk down the street and she and Santana swing the tiny dancer between them, unable to wipe the huge smiles off their faces.

* * *

><p>Brittany comes home from the show just in time to wrap the gifts and place them under the Christmas tree. They nibble at the cookies (Brittany stuffs herself with three our four - for authenticity she says) drink half the glass of milk and, as punishment for sneaking Santa's snacks, Santana makes her wife take large chunks out of the carrots for the reindeer that they'll put out on the fire escape later.<p>

After everything's in place they collapse into bed and are woken rather roughly what seems like only seconds later by a frizzy haired cannon ball who slams down onto Santana.

"SON OF A BI-"

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

"Brittany_, __your_ daughter is up."

Brittany, groggy and with drool smeared across a cheek, blinks blearily at her wife through the darkness. "Who?"

"MA! MOMMA! PRESENTS!" Holly roars, jumping excitedly on the bed as her mothers groan and look at each other bemusedly.

"What time is it?" Santana mutters lowly, rubbing a hand across her still stinging abdomen that cushioned Holly's fall.

"5.30 a.m."

"MAAAAAAA! GET UP! I WANNA SEE WHAT SANTA GOT ME!"

"I'm coming, Holl. Give Ma a second, okay?" Santana struggles to sit up, glaring at Brittany who turns her back on them both in lieu of more sleep.

Holly must take this badly because she rams into her Momma with all her force and shakes the blonde woman violently with cries of, "GET UP, MOMMA! PRESENTS! SANTA CAME! COME OOOOOOOON!"

"I'm up!" Brittany cries, wrestling their daughter off of her and tickling her furiously. "I'm up you little pest!"

Santana, who has moved towards the door, arches an eyebrow at the pair and asks them if they're coming or what. Her two girls look at each other before vaulting out of bed and racing each other to the living room where Santana hears Holly scream in exhultation.

"MA! MOMMA! HE CAME!"

"Of course he did," Brittany says as they settle on the floor next to the tree and stack all the presents together on the coffee table. "You were a good girl this year."

Holly rips her presents apart and screeches happily at the Barbie Doll house she'd asked for and even lets herself be stuffed into the tacky Christmas sweater her Abuela has sent from Lima for some Christmas pictures. They Skype call Quinn in London and Rachel who's back home in Lima and who seems to also be wearing the same identical sweater as Holly, before crashing on the couch to watch their daughter play with her new toys. Santana takes this time to reply to several well-wishing messages on her phone and smiles lovingly at her wife when Brittany plops down beside her on the couch with a kiss and a wrapped arm around her shoulders.

"Merry Christmas, honey."

Holly tries to jump up to join them but can't quite get a grip on the slick material of the couch with only one hand; in the other she's holding a large duck plushie from her Aunt Emily. Her mothers giggle and Santana bends to hoist her up with them, letting her settle in the small space between their bodies. They kiss her and then each other, turning to watch the view of New York city on Christmas morning as Holly quietly makes her duck quack.

They really couldn't have asked for a better holiday.


End file.
